


as he sleeps

by niskanens



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 01:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14581686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niskanens/pseuds/niskanens
Summary: Though they had other friends, everyone knew it was Taylor and Jordan, Jordan and Taylor.





	as he sleeps

When Taylor was born, it was nothing short of a miracle. He arrived at a time when his parents, hardworking and headstrong Southerners, had nearly lost all hope of starting a family. But after years of prayers and medical consultations, he came as the only blessing on an otherwise dreadfully hot summer day. Aunts and uncles came in droves to the quaint farmhouse, baring enough baby clothes and toys to last generations of children. Family members stayed to help for as long as they could, taking turns cooking and cleaning while Taylor enjoyed being bounced and cuddled. The morning he was christened at the town church, loved ones packed the pews to witness the blessing. In the very back of the chapel, shielded by stained glass shadows, sat a scorned cousin who had made the journey for a single purpose. As the last drop of water fell from Taylor’s spattered blonde curls, the woman stood and pronounced, “This child is going to fall in love with a forbidden. And when he does, he will die.”

She was escorted out almost immediately, disapproving looks shaming her as the doors slammed shut behind her. Taylor’s parents, though startled, disregarded her words. The priest, noticing their discomfort, gently pressed his thumb against the newborn’s forehead. “Dominus vobiscum,” he said under his breath, making the sign of the cross against his skin. “May the Lord protect you always.”

 

Taylor stands still, back pressed against the rough siding of the barn. The night is quiet; the only sound, the singing of crickets, emanates from the fields around him. He takes a step, boots sinking into mud. He’s not coming, he thinks. He’s probably busy with her. He stumbles slightly and tugs his red flannel tighter around his torso. He walks around the side of building and takes hold of the open doors, heaving them shut. Taylor grabs the rusted lock from where it lays on the ground and slides it through the handles. Before he can snap it in place, he’s hit from the side, a slightly heavier body colliding with his. The wind leaves his chest almost as fast as he hits the ground. He groans, left arm caked with dirt, and shoves a laughing boy off of him.  


“What the hell, Jordan?” Taylor hisses, pushing himself to a sitting position. Jordan turns his head and grins. He lets out another snort and jumps to his feet.

“I’m sorry. It was just so easy,” Jordan says, looking down at Taylor. He extends a hand and Taylor grabs it, allowing himself to be pulled up. They stand like that for a moment, hands clasped together, before Jordan clears his throat and drops his arm to his side. Taylor turns away and takes the lock back off of the barn doors.

The old wood creaks loudly as Jordan shoulders his way inside. Taylor follows, pulling the entryway closed. An automatic light switches on as it detects their movement, and the two-story structure becomes illuminated in a fluorescent glow. Circular bales of yellow hay are stacked across the left wall. Steps to the second floor are towards the back, behind the rundown tractor that rests in the center. Jordan grabs four beers from a cooler, passing two off to Taylor. They walk quietly towards the staircase, floorboards shifting beneath their feet.

They reach the top, and Taylor grabs hold of the radio laying on the table, tuning it to the local pop country station. Commercials crackle out of the speakers. Jordan collapses into a red folding chair that faces the window. He takes a long swig of his drink as he eyes Taylor, who leans against the wall.

They remain like this for a while. For the past four years, this is what their Sunday nights had consisted of. The boys met in middle school, voices’ cracking and desperate for acceptance. They had been nearly inseparable ever since. They did everything together, from milking their first cow to summer league baseball to double dates at the diner. Though they had other friends, everyone knew it was Taylor and Jordan, Jordan and Taylor. Even when life became a little too much, the two could always count on one another to be at Taylor’s barn two hours after dusk at the end of the week. Changes had come about, though; they were about to be freshmen in college with bigger responsibilities than either knew how to deal with. One of those was Jordan’s girlfriend, who he’d been going steady with for just under a year. She was perfectly attractive, perfectly kind, perfectly good for Jordan. Sometimes, she would join them during these weekly rituals, perched on Jordan’s lap like some kind of bird. Taylor resented those Sundays. 

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Jordan asks softly.

Taylor shrugs, his beer bottle sweating in his hand. “Leavin’. Gettin’ out of here.”

“So, the usual?” Jordan chuckles, his smile lighting up his face. Taylor has to look away. He sets his drink on the window sill and sighs.

“I’m gonna miss these nights, you know. When you’re in Texas and everything.”

“So am I,” Jordan responds. “Iowa ain’t that far away.”

Taylor smiles despite the tightness that spreads across his chest. “Yeah. Anna will be right there with you, though. I don’t know a soul up north.”

“Sure, but Anna ain’t you.”

That’s when Taylor feels it. He turns, looks into Jordan’s brown eyes, and freezes as his heart sinks into his stomach. He opens his mouth, gasping for air. His knees buckle a second later and he hits the ground before Jordan can ask what’s gotten into him.

 

The next three months are a blur for Jordan. He puts everything he can into helping his father repair the silo, making sure Anna’s happy, and packing for school. It’s hard, and sometimes he wishes he could just stop everything and hide away for a while. But that’s not an option, because then he’ll become overwhelmed with thoughts of Taylor. And while Jordan is strong, he can’t handle that.

It’s the end of August, nine days before he’s supposed to jump into his truck and never look back before Jordan even considers stepping foot in the hospital. Half the town had been over there since it happened, bringing along cards and flowers as if that was going heal him. It made him angry, but Jordan knew that he would never forgive himself if he didn’t do the same. So, he grabs a baseball trading card they both cherished, and a rosary, despite his current disdain for God, and goes to see the only boy he’d ever truly loved.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” the nurse comments as she leads him down the hallway towards Taylor’s room. Jordan doesn’t answer, his hands clammy and tucked into his front pockets. She stops in front of a white door a few feet away and turns the silver handle.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. If you need anything, there’s a button on the side of his bed that’ll alert one of us,” she says, smiling softly at him before stepping out.

Jordan nods absentmindedly. His eyes scan the room, taking in the vases and balloons and stuffed animals that seem to suffocate the space. Smack dab in the middle lays Taylor, white blankets pulled up to his chest. Two thin tubes connected to some kind of machine are stuck in his nose. For a moment, Jordan doesn’t know what to do. He can hear his heart beating in his ears, the rosary digging into his clutched fist.

He walks forward and crouches down beside the bed. Taylor looks so peaceful, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. His skin is paler than Jordan had ever seen it. Freckles are splashed across the bridge of his nose and his blonde hair sticks out in little tufts against the pillow behind his head. Jordan lets out a wail and tears streak his cheeks. He wipes at his face with his hands, his body wracking with sobs. He wants to stop. He wants to quit being so weak but he’s falling apart without Taylor and it hurts more than any pain he’s ever felt.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so fucking sorry that I waited this long. You’ve always been there for me. I hate myself for not doing the same for you. I just wish that you would've told me. We tell each other everything. If I had known you were using--”

Jordan clears his throat and wipes his eyes. He pulls the playing card from his pocket. He reaches up and puts it on the table beside the bed. He taps it a few times with his finger.

“Thought you would want something familiar in here,” he says. “Amongst all this other shit. Maybe it’ll bring you luck or something, like a good omen.”

The air in the room seems to stand still, sterile and noiseless aside from the occasional beep that comes from one of the computers. Jordan sighs and pushes himself to his feet. He studies Taylor’s face once more, attempting to memorize every inch of his face. He’s waiting for a sign – a breath, a hand movement, anything. But he’s hopeless and filled with doubt, so he tells Taylor what he’s been dying to ever since they first met.

“I love you, Tay,” he blurts. “Always have, always will.”

Jordan drops the rosary on top of the card, rubbing the cross before he completely lets it go. He looks over his shoulder and before he can stop himself, leans down and presses his lips against Taylor’s. As it happens, it feels as if he’s finally free of something, like there’s been a release. He’s not sure what. And even stranger, as he pulls away, he wonders if the slight pressure he had felt against his lips had been Taylor kissing him back. Or if it was simply his imagination.

**Author's Note:**

> y'all know i love that rural shit. if u couldn't tell this was based on sleeping beauty. thx for reading <3


End file.
